Spots of the Leopard
by Eilike
Summary: When Zoro suffers from an unhealed wound, Sanji relates the story of his last battle on the Baratie to Chopper: He got beaten up, but being worried about Luffy, no one realized just how badly injured the young cook was. As Sanji goes into shock and broken ribs threaten to pierce his lungs, it's up to Zeff to save the little eggplant's life. *Again...*
1. Too late for miracles

Hello. Thanks for clicking this story. I know I have another going (actually two of them) that I should get on with. But this one just seems to write itself, thinking of how it took only one week from the first idea to final layout of the first chapter.

I woke up last Sunday, thinking that it's sort of strange how, in the early chapters, back on the Baratié, Sanji gets beaten up so badly and next we meet him again outside Luffy's room, waiting for Luffy to recover. So, if this starts out like a Sanji/Zoro nakama story, it is actually a Sanji/Zeff thing, explaining what took place during the interval between Gin taking his leave and Luffy starting up and shouting for his hat.

There must be one thousand versions and more already out there (and we're about 600 chapters and two years into the future), but I hope I still found a twist - and a way to present it - that is original for you to enjoy. :)

Disclaimer: I do not own "One Piece" and/or any of its characters, and I do not make money out of this.

* * *

**+++ Chapter 1: Too late for miracles+++_  
_**

_Going Merry (late afternoon)_

On the second day after the Straw Hat's departure from Alabasta, things were settling down and by afternoon, life aboard had returned to normal routine. Luffy and Usopp were bullying a shoal of flying fish, while Chopper and Nami sat on deck with Nico Robin, getting to know their new crew member better.

Zoro and Sanji were sparring and had been at it for almost two hours. There seemed no end to the young fighters' energy and strength, as they attacked and feigned, slashed and kicked, tackled and dodged. At regular intervals, Sanji would call a time-out to light a new cigarette.

'Smo-king – ruins the – constitu-tion,' Zoro told him during one of those breaks.

Surprised, the blond cook looked up. 'Are you okay?'

'Wha-t – do – you – mean? Of course – I'm – oh-kay,' panted Zoro.

'You seem a bit winded.'

'Your – smoke's – mak-ing – me sick.' Zoro took his position, one sword between his teeth, the other two blades crossed in front of his body.

Sanji blinked, pointing his cigarette at his nakama's chest, 'Ah, marimo, you know you're bleeding?'

'A h-harm-less scratch.' Zoro attacked.

Sanji evaded the blades easily, turned full circle and countered. His kick broke through Zoro's defense and smashed into the sword fighter's ribs. Zoro was sent flying across the deck like a straw bag and crashed into the rail. The sword he had held with his teeth clattered on the floor. The others, he still clutched. Giving a strangled sound, he slid down the rail and sat on the planks.

Alarmed, the Straw Hats gathered around the choking warrior.

'Wow, Sanji,' said Luffy. 'Was that a new technique?'

'Yes – no. No!' Sanji was as baffled as anyone. 'I only countered his attack. It was nothing special.' He drew on his cigarette. 'Shitty try, though, marimo.'

'He's bleeding,' said Chopper, giving Sanji a stern "How-could-you...?" kind of look.

'He said it was harmless. A scratch,' said Sanji, starting to feel a little touchy at the reindeer's tone of voice.

'_Couldn't you see he needed to catch his breath?'_ said Chopper. _'Couldn't you have given him a break?'_

'Now, you give _me_ a break, Chopper! Why would I worry about his needs? Why would I bother to _know_?' Sanji drew fiercely on his cigarette. 'He's old enough to speak up for himself.'

Zoro struggled for breath. 'Damn cigarette,' he coughed. 'Can't breathe...'

'Sparring's over for today,' said Chopper. 'Luffy, Sanji, give me a hand. We have to get him to the meeting room.'

* * *

Zoro was placed on a mattress beside the door, and Chopper set out to examine him. He checked on the swordman's pulse, he put his ear to his chest and pressed his blue nose on Zoro's brow, since his hooves were insensitive to temperature. When he was done, his cute reindeer face displayed a look of utmost concern.

The others were waiting outside, each in their own fashion: Luffy sat cross-legged on the floor right in front of the door. Sanji leaned casually against the mast, smoking, while Usopp and Nami stood on each side of the door, fiddling with slingshot and log pose. Only Robin kept a few steps off, not wanting to impose herself on the crew who hopefully would, but had not yet entirely become her friends.

'What's wrong with Zoro?' asked Nami, when Chopper stood in the door.

'It's the gunshot wound he received on that tower in Alabasta,' said Chopper. 'Remember when we finally found the bomb, and I carried Princess Vivi up to the top, using Sanji and Zoro as spring boards? He got shot in the chest then.'

'But that was five days ago,' said Usopp, scratching his head. 'Granted, we were all in a bad shape when we were taken to the palace. But we all healed, meantime.'

'Well, Zoro did not,' said Chopper simply. 'This wound is still critical. He's feverish. And he can't breathe very well.' As he talked, the reindeer made way for Sanji who strode past and stood beside Zoro. The cook put his hands to his hips, 'Oi, marimo. How long, do you think, I've got to put up with you in my galley?'

Zoro glowered at him, but said nothing. He was simply too busy fighting for air to engage in their usual bickering. Sanji countered his look in silence. As he slowly exhaled cigarette smoke, he seemed to have reached at a decision and to confirm it to himself with a long sigh.

'Sanji, for goodness' sake, don't smoke in here!' Waving his hooves, Chopper tried to snatch the cigarette away from the blonde cook.

'Be right back.' Sanji turned on his heel and left, taking his smoke with him.

'What was that about?' asked Usopp.

'Beats me,' said Luffy.

'How can Sanji-kun be so unfeeling?' said Nami, irritably. 'Everyone knows Zoro's not his favorite. But he's our nakama, for heaven's sake!'

Everyone turned their attention back to the sword fighter: Zoro breathed in shallow gasps, now laying with his eyes closed. His hands moved restlessly on the blanket Chopper had spread over him: He was looking for his swords that lay beside his mattress and well out of reach. Chopper was not as crazy as to give weapons to a delirious patient.

'I can't help him,' the reindeer said, desperately. 'Damn his ambition! I believe he worked out too hard, too soon. Sparring with Sanji, his wound reopened. He ignored the pain, but his muscles started to cramp. He had trouble breathing, and the more he struggled and ignored the problem, the worse his condition got. Until Sanji's kick to the chest finished him off.'

'The idiot's - damned - cigarette,' corrected Zoro, wheezing.

'Sorry, Zoro,' said Chopper. 'But I really don't think your trouble's got to do with anything but your obstinately disregarding the symptoms. And Sanji's counter kick.'

Zoro harrumphed and closed his eyes again.

'Can't you do anything, Chopper?' asked Luffy.

'I've got the ingredients, but I need time to prepare the medicine,' said Chopper. 'The herbs need to brew. Three to four hours at least...'

'No way. I refuse preparing dinner with the marimo huffing and puffing in my back like that.' Unnoticed, Sanji had returned and stood in the door. He held up a small green vial that was about a third full of some liquid.

'What is that?' asked Chopper.

'Cough syrup,' said Sanji, non-committally. 'Although I would not waste it on a simple cold.'

He broke the seal and offered the vial to Chopper. The reindeer sniffed. There was alcohol in it, he decided. But not much, really, and it smelled of a high-quality white wine. And fish. Chopper stuck out his tongue, '_Faugh_.'

'Yes, I know,' said Sanji, guiltily. 'The smell isn't inviting. Oi, marimo. Do you hear me?'

Zoro did not respond.

'I guess that means "no",' mumbled Sanji. 'Alright, we'll have to make him swallow. Luffy, can you give me a hand and hold his – '

'I'll do it,' said Chopper. 'I know how.' He looked sternly at Sanji. 'You sure about this?'

Sanji jerked a nod.

'Alright, I'll ask for an explanation later.' Chopper leaned over Zoro and made some drops go into the swordsman's open mouth. Zoro interrupted his laborious panting to swallow. When the taste registered, he cringed, trying to sit up and quickly being held down by Usopp and Luffy. '_Faugh! Shit, _ Chopper! What _is_ that crap?'

'Medicine. Open up.' Chopper checked with Sanji, who nodded again. _Give him all of it. _Paying no heed to Zoro's protests, Chopper repeated the procedure until the vial was empty. Sanji pocketed it as if the ancient thing had a worth in itself.

'Thanks for not telling him it was my idea,' he mumbled.

'Yes, well, we wanted him to accept it, didn't we?' Chopper replied quietly.

'Look,' said Nami, astonished. 'He's breathing more easily already.'

Zoro took a long, sighing breath, just as they all looked at him.

'...want my swords,' he mumbled and sank into sleep.

'Wow,' said Luffy to Sanji. 'I didn't know you could do medical stuff too?'

'I can't.' Sanji looked at Zoro with an unreadable expression. 'That vial was family heirloom, sort of. And you didn't know I had it, because you were asleep when it came into my possession.'

'Huh?'

'Doesn't matter.'

'Okay, everyone out,' said Chopper. 'Zoro needs to rest. I'll call for you if there's a need...'

The crew shuffled out.

'Not you, Sanji,' said Chopper, stopping the cook by touching his elbow. 'You still need to tell me what that elixir was.'

Sanji bristled. 'Shit, I don't need to tell you anything.'

Chopper studied him quietly. Then he went to the wine rack, took a bottle and two glasses and left the galley.

'Hey!' Sanji started to trot after the reindeer. 'Where are you going with that? Chopper? Wait a sec! Chopper? _Chopper!_ Chop- Damn, that stubborn reindeer's driving me crazy!'

Ignoring the disgruntled cook, Chopper set the table on the sun deck where he'd sat with Nami and Robin. Only when he had poured the wine, he turned around.

'Make yourself comfortable,' he said friendly, yet with a doctor's authority. He held out a glass to Sanji. 'For you. You look like you could do with something stronger, but I don't know where you keep it.'

'It's that obvious, huh?' Sanji accepted the glass, but he refused to sit.

'Hmm-hmm, yes. If I wasn't so worried about Zoro, I have no doubt my doctor's instinct would zero in on you.' Chopper sat on his chair, lay back and held up his nose to the sun. 'That elixir was pretty amazing. Although it stank of fish.'

'Octopus,' said Sanji deliberately.

Chopper made a point of relishing the sun on his fur, changing to his man-shape in order to have more surface to expose. 'Well, then - _octopus_...' He gestured again. 'Sanji. Sit down. _Please._'

'You're not going to let up, are you? You just can't leave me alone?' But Sanji was pulling back a chair.

'I don't know,' said Chopper. 'Do you want to be left alone, Sanji? I felt that maybe you wanted - '

'Wanted _what_?'

'To tell your story...'

'You _know_ my story.'

'Not the part that was on your mind when you were looking at Zoro, down in the galley. The part that made you get that vial... Sanji, come on. I'm a doctor. I'm diagnosing a need to talk.'

Sanji scowled. 'More like a need to listen, isn't it? Alright...'

Fascinated, Chopper watched the blond human lift his glass and down half of its contents in one gulp. 'Easy...,' he mumbled.

'_My story -_ ' said Sanji, setting the glass back on the table. 'My story reaches back to the day Luffy defeated Don Krieg.' Leaning forward, he engaged Chopper's gaze. Suddenly, the reindeer doubted that it had been a good idea to take it that far. But here they were, and like it or not, he was going to hear Sanji's story now.

'As you probably know, on that day I too had my share of fighting.' Sanji's voice sounded strangely flat and emotionless. 'I got wounded, not just once, but time and again. By Pearl, by that shitty idiot Gin. But I had a good reason to persist, even to die, or so I thought: I would save the Baratié, I would repay my debt to the geezer. But when combat was over, I was still alive.' Absently, Sanji nursed his wine glass, staring off into space. 'No one knew just how critical my injuries were, not even myself... it was Luffy we were worried about...'

* * *

_The Baratié, day of the battle against Don Krieg (early evening)_

Don Krieg's pirates had left. The Baratié was a wreck. The "errand boy" who had rescued the restaurant ship was beaten up and half drowned, and he certainly looked like he would not wake up till next sunrise at the very first. The cooks took Luffy to his guest room and tended to his wounds. Sanji was with them. His whole body ached. He felt lightheaded from blood loss. Several broken ribs forced him to walk in a stoop while clutching his side.

But it was not before Luffy was tucked in that the softest of sighs escaped the young cook's lips, drawing the other men's attention.

They had forgotten about him, but now they saw him all but collapse against the door frame. Carne and Patty, his "best foes", sprang into action and took him to his room, where he lay on his bed shaking, as his fellow cooks bustled about:

They gave him rum, they cleaned and dressed his wounds, they put pajamas on him and told him to rest. It was Baratié standard procedure after a pirate attack.

Unfortunately, things were not going according to standard this time.

* * *

_The Baratié (dusk)_

'Owner Zeff...'

The one-legged owner of the swimming restaurant cursed under his breath and heaved his body around on the mattress.

'Owner Zeff!' Carne insisted, louder this time. 'Please. A word with you, sir...'

'Alright, alright, I'm awake.' Checking that his hat was in place, Zeff sat up. 'What is it? What did you let boil over this time?' But even as the Baratié's head chef asked he could see that this call for help was not due to trouble in the kitchen.

'It's Sanji,' said Carne, trembling. 'Please, come and take a look...'

* * *

Sanji was sitting on his bed, clutching his sides. He hyperventilated, wheezing in rapid, hiccuping gasps as if recovering from a crying fit. Every gasp sent a stinging pain through his whole body that was feeling cold and trembled. He was pale and visibly scared as he tried in vain to get a grip on himself and understand what was happening to him. He felt that his usually so reliable body had started to behave like a ship pitching and rolling out of control and he just knew there were cliffs ahead...

'How long's he been like this?' asked Zeff.

'It started shortly after we finished treating his wounds,' said Carne. 'He complained about feeling dizzy and short of breath. We thought it was because of the broken ribs. But he got worse by the minute.'

'Sorry, sir,' howled Patty. 'I told him to lie down. But he just sits, and sits, and pants...'

Leaning on his crutches, Zeff hobbled closer to the bed. 'Oi, Sanji. You sound like a stranded fish.'

'..can't – breathe.' There was hardly a perceptible break to Sanji's gasping as he wrenched the words out. Still, Zeff was satisfied with the reaction. It meant that the lad was responsive and so far resisting to give in to panic. Zeff had little patience with men succumbing to panic.

'I know you can't breathe,' growled Zeff. 'I'd have to be blind and deaf not to notice.'

He turned back to the other two. 'This looks bad,' he said, in a hushed voice. 'He's lost too much blood. Circulation is giving out. He's gone into shock.'

'Shock?' asked Sanji. 'Me?' He sat bolt upright, yapping like a puppy on a hot day.

'_Yes – you_,' Zeff looked over his shoulder. 'It was bound to happen. I expected it from the time that guy, Pearl, attacked you to the neck. And later on, when Gin broke your ribs. Pray there's not one or more of them tickling your lungs. But I guess it's already too late to ask for miracles.'

'What do we do, sir?' asked Patty. 'Lay him flat on the floor and put up his feet?'

Sanji crawled backwards, shaking his head. 'No – I want to – sit...' He hugged himself, teeth rattling.

'You've got your answer, Patty,' said Zeff. 'I would trust him on that. A man usually knows what does him good.'

'But what are we to do, boss?' insisted Carne.

_Yes, what were they to do?_ Zeff wondered. He was not a physician, but he had experienced a lot of medical emergencies during his time as a pirate. He had seen men that were twice Sanji's age and three times his weight done in by the physical effects of shock. They just seemed unable to snap out of it, lingering for hours, sometimes for days. To make matters worse, the lad's wounds and his general exhausted state boded ill: Zeff expected him to be down with a fever by dawn. _And heaven have mercy on the little eggplant then..._

Zeff made his decision. There was one last secret to tell, and the day had come to relate it.

'Carne. Run, and get the green vial from my bookshelf. It's on the highest shelf, behind volume three of "Two hundred and thirty-six seasonings that go with venison." '

'Do you think Sanji will die, sir?'

'Run!' said Zeff, and the answer was in his tone of voice. 'Patty. Help Sanji sit up straight.'

Patty reached out to grab Sanji's shoulders. But the young cook slapped at him. 'Hands – off, you – shit-ty – '

'_Owner Zeff_,' howled Patty.

Zeff straightened up and crossed his arms over his chest. It was a posture he saved for special occasions. If he stood like this, one could still see the impressive pirate the former captain had once been. 'Look at me, Sanji,' he commanded. 'That's right. Look up, straight at my face, and _don't you allow yourself to slump..._ Look at me, little eggplant!'

Sanji didn't give a damn about "impressive". Although he did look up thus keeping himself in a more or less upright position, the defiance at being ordered around under these conditions showed clearly in his eye. Zeff wondered what the lad was thinking. He certainly looked as if he expected his boss secretly to gloat at his suffering.

_A good, reassuring thing to do,_ Zeff knew, _would be to reach out and pat Sanji's shoulder. To tell the lad that he was doing fine and that he should remain calm and keep up resisting fear. _

Zeff would do neither.

From the day he had pulled the boy out of water and on to the rock that had nearly become their tombstone and grave, he had never physically touched Sanji. Except, of course, when he whacked him for being clumsy, stupid or cocky.

_Especially _when the boy was cocky.

It wasn't like Zeff laid down many rules for an adolescent to rebel against.

As far as the old pirate was concerned, Sanji could chase any skirt, smack any guest, smoke, swear, and steer his boat at reckless speed, as long as it did not interfere with the quality of his cooking. And Sanji reliably did all that was expected of him, and more: He collected lipstick marks, those left on white napkins and those he carefully took from used glasses, he loved riding the waves in rough weather with his sail almost parallel to the water, causing the cooks to sigh with fear just from watching him.

His creative usage of abusive language should have earned him a doctor's degree in Imaginative Linguistics.

When one day Zeff brought home a small supply of an exotic new spice made of a certain, rare kind of weed, Sanji and the precious spice box disappeared from the scene for three days. He was fifteen then, but when he eventually staggered back into the kitchen he looked like forty. The box was empty, and the same pervasive smell of burning hay that stuck to his hair and clothes had been wafting all through the ship for days. For an excuse he claimed that he'd come up with a hundred new dishes that should be prepared using his wonderful weed – if they could afford to buy more.

The cooks expected Zeff to throw a tantrum. But the old pirate merely told Sanji to keep stirring this pot of goulash soup while he, Zeff, went and got an overview on their finances. Oh, and would Sanji please taste whether the thing needed more seasoning, bacon, garlic, pepper, touch of red wine - anything? _Yes, right now. _It shouldn't be hard for him to decide, since he was such an adept at creating culinary delights...

Sanji was extremely sick for two days and didn't touch a cigarette for a fortnight.

Zeff had Patty pass him the information that they unfortunately could not afford more seasoning made of expensive weed, and the spoiled goulash soup waited for him, once he could hold on to his meals again. Apart from this, the old chef did not take any interest. Whether they be wise or foolish, a man's decisions were his own, after all.

At one point in his life Zeff had decided that he wasn't one for hugs and patting backs, for comforting and nursing and other sentimental stuff.

But that didn't mean he couldn't appreciate Carne's returning with the vial now. The cook was panting from exertion, albeit not nearly as badly as the lad on the bed.

Zeff accepted the vial. 'Thanks, Carne. Leave us alone, you two.'

'But, sir - '

'Close the door as you leave,' said Zeff.

When they were gone, he showed the vial to Sanji, 'Now, Sanji, what do you think this is?'

Sanji raised and dropped his shoulders: He had no clue, but he was open for suggestions.

'Consider it cough syrup.' Zeff took a step forward and handed the vial to the younger man. This action told Sanji much about how serious the old geezer assessed the situation. At any other time, Zeff would have spared himself the effort of moving and rather tossed the vial. As matters stood, he wouldn't risk worsening Sanji's condition by making him move swiftly and catch the thing out of the air.

The vial was sealed with wax to keep some kind of liquid in. Sanji broke it off with his thumb nail, then he realized that he would not be able to swallow the contents. His throat was constricted and all the panting had left him feeling nauseated so that he could not imagine forcing anything into his stomach – or make it stay down, for that matter.

He looked at Zeff, inquiringly: The old pirate did not seem inclined to help. 'Go slowly,' was all he said now. That was nothing new. Sanji had known the geezer standing just like this and watching as the young cook jumped between half a dozen boiling pots, blond hair dark and wet with steam, scalding his hands, shouting abuse and dropping a knife on his foot.

In the end, all he would say was, 'Hot, isn't it, little eggplant?'

_What would he say this time, if Sanji lived to see the sun rise next morning_? _Something like,_ _'What a nuisance, the last night' ?_

Sanji was determined to live and find out: He tilted the vial and let a little of the contents spill on his fingers. It was a viscous, purplish liquid that smelled of fish. He moistened his lips with it and found that by licking the stuff off he could fool his mutinous body's reflexes. A strong taste filled his mouth, like a perfect sauce ruined by putting too much tuna. If he had taken a full swig he was sure he would've retched it up again.

'Shit, geezer - what - is this?' he wheezed.

'You're a cook. You tell me,' said Zeff.

It was an old game between them, and one that Sanji had become quite proficient at.

He chewed his lip and focused. 'White wine?' he suggested. 'Onions – no more than - one, maybe - two in five litres - a touch of lemon. Parsley. Butter?'

'Go on,' said Zeff, looking satisfied with his assistant's analysis so far.

'Red pepper, salt.'

'That goes without saying,' said Zeff.

Sanji dipped a little more on his finger and sucked it off. 'Cognac. And - '

'Yes?'

Sanji turned the taste around in his mouth. 'I'm not sure. Squid?'

'Close enough,' said Zeff. 'It's octopus.'

'Octopus?'

'A small species, no bigger than my hand. They change color, of course, adapting to the color of the ground they're sitting on. But when they're afloat, they are emerald green. With spots of the color of sapphires.' Zeff sighed. 'Quite beautiful to behold, actually. But they're very rare. And they taste like seal dung – not that I've tried that before. But you get the idea.'

Sanji listened, feeling that there was more to come than just a lecture on a special kind of seafood. It occurred to him that he had ceased hiccuping for air like a fish on dry land. He was still feeling light-headed, and his heart fluttered in his chest like a streamer in a gale. But his throat seemed to have opened up a bit. Greedy for air, he filled his lungs – and winced at the stabbing pain caused by his broken ribs.

'There is only one part of this creature that can be used,' Zeff went on, seemingly oblivious of the younger man's occupation. 'And that is the jelly in its limbs. Purple stuff like jam from black currants. It's poisonous.'

Sanji looked up in alarm, 'Poisonous?!'

'Only for fish, idiot. Things that would eat the octopus otherwise. I guess the main idea is to disable small critters by paralyzing their organic functions. But to humans, guess what it does?' Zeff paused for emphasis. If he had worn glasses, he'd have looked over the rim at his audience. 'It can help you breathe if you're all cramped up with injury and pain. Your throat and tubes relax, give way, stop hurting.' He eyed Sanji keenly. 'If I'm not mistaken it's already kicked in with you, hasn't it?'

Sanji nodded. 'Can I – _more_?'

'I gave you the vial,' said Zeff. 'You can do whatever you like with its contents. Just don't take it all at once, or you might yet learn the hard way you're some small critter, after all.'

This time, Sanji was able to swallow directly. It still felt like there was a bone stuck in his throat, but the liquid went down and continued to work its miracle: Sanji was starting to feel warm again.

'Good,' said Zeff. 'There's some color returning to your cheeks, lil' eggplant. I take it the blood's flowing back from where it has gone into hiding.'

Not only the blood was flowing, as it turned out. The old pirate was a little amazed, but not totally surprised when the lad began to cry.

* * *

_Going Merry (present day)_

'Wait a second. You cried?' asked Chopper. 'But why? Things were improving, weren't they?'

Sanji took the cigarette out of his mouth and blew smoke to the darkening sky. 'I was finished,' he said, shrugging his shoulders. 'I was wounded, exhausted, weary onto death. And alone, at least that was how I felt. For all the things Zeff had done for me, there was that one gesture you simply could not expect from him: A good, hearty pat on the shoulder.' He put the cigarette back in his mouth, casually covering the lower half of his face with his hand as he did so. 'Sorry. I keep forgetting - do you get my meaning or am I talking in riddles to you?'

'Reindeer don't pat each other's shoulders,' said Chopper, understanding what his nakama meant to say. 'But now that I've experienced it a few times, I think it might've been one of the things I instinctively missed the most while I was still roaming with the herd. One of the things to be gained that made me seek human company.'

'Zeff wasn't human in that respect,' said Sanji, smiling darkly. 'He was – simply Zeff. And he had his very own ideas of how a man should act if he was worthy of the name...'

* * *

+++End of Chapter 1+++

A/N: Well, this is it, so far. Wish I could tell by traffic/reviews/followers if you enjoy reading and want to read more. Inspiration is the jumpstart, but readers are my fuel. Please, let me know what you think.


	2. Bravery

Hi there, all of you - and especially you, "anonymous reviewer". You replied when this story hadn't been up for two hours; it made me really happy to find your comment. Hope, you enjoy this chapter. I had to keep it short because with Christmas coming up there was not enough time to revise more text (which is always quite a hassle, though it may not seem this way. I mean, let's just take the word "shit" - just where the ... do you place it in your sentence? It's not something dictionaries are too outspoken about, giving multiple explanations and examples... A One Piece dictionary and grammar book for fanfic writers. That would be a useful thing :) )

Disclaimer: I do not own "One Piece" and/or any of its characters, and I do not make money out of this.

* * *

**+++Chapter 2: Bravery+++**

_Baratié, (after nightfall)_

Sanji made not much fuss about his breakdown. There was no reason or explanation he could've given anyway, just a general, overall feeling of fatigue and a temporary inability to care about what Zeff might think. Maybe, if Carne and Patty or one of the others were present... but they weren't. So, the young cook sat with his back against the bed frame and his eyes closed, wondering where all that water that flowed over his face could possible come from and whether it would wash the last of his strength out of him. And what would happen to him if it did.

Eventually, he felt that he was almost through, shedding all the tears he would ever have at his disposal.

A little later still, and his pride stirred like a small, flexible tree straigthening up after a gust of wind: Sanji decided that would never be able to cry again, just as he would not be able to look Zeff in the eye any more.

He leaned forward and put his head on his knees.

'...pathetic,' he murmured.

'What's pathetic?' asked Zeff.

'Me. I'm pathetic,' said Sanji, defiantly. 'Sitting here, crying like a boy, and I don't even know why. I can't see your face very well in that shitty dark. But you must be laughing.'

'I'm not,' said Zeff. _That little eggplant sure had curious notions._

'I don't know what happened just now,' said Sanji. 'But it will never happen again. I won't let it happen again.'

_Just like that guy, Zoro, had promised never to lose again after being bested and almost stabbed to death by that devil swordsman who could chop up ships with his blade._

'Now, you're smiling, little eggplant,' observed Zeff. 'What's so funny?'

_'I won't let it happen again._ That just sounded like I was one of Luffy's Straw Hats.'

'Talented bunch of fighters,' said Zeff, dead-serious. 'Guess they'll rock the boat on the Grand Line when they get there.'

'Yeah,' said Sanji noncommittally. 'Guess, we'll hear of them…'

There was a short, awkward silence. Then, Zeff said, 'You know what's pathetic, Sanji? A man who lets ancient hurt and injury stop him from looking out for him. Stop him from dreaming, from forging his future. That's what I call pathetic.'

'But – '

'Sanji? Remember what I said about the strength coming from a man's inmost core...?'

There was a purpose in the old geezer's tone of voice, a suggestion. A challenge that for some reason he would not speak aloud.

Sanji regarded Zeff levelly for long moments. Then, he opened his shirt and produced a knife from under his cushion. Everyone on the Baratié had weapons hidden within reach. Life was too dangerous out here. Sanji used it to cut the bandage around his chest. The dressing revealed bruised and cut skin, but the spot that looked worst was a blue-black bruise on his ribcage, right-hand side about a palm above his waist. Sanji touched his fingertip to it and made a face.

'What are you going to do?' asked Zeff.

'I'm going to cut myself open and straighten the rib that's poking my lungs,' Sanji said, scowling. 'That's what one of that _bunch of fighters_ would do, isn't it? They're talented, but they're also crazy like shit. But all your talk about strength and a man looking out for himself. Giving me that miracle painkiller... I know you well, old geezer. You told me all that stuff for a reason.'

'You dare call _that_ a reason?!' Zeff exploded. 'You think it's something I might suggest to you?' His voice rose to remarkable volume. 'Stupid fool, do you really think that all these years I taught and trained you just so you could go and _maim _yourself? Do you think it's some kind of revenge I want of you? Recompense? _Redemption?_ An eye for an eye, and _a life for a leg_?'

'No,' said Sanji, although the thought had crossed his mind more than once during the past years and especially today.

'Don't start lying to me, damn it! Call me names, get cocky, defy me all you like! But never – never try to lie to me,' Zeff raged. 'Luffy was right. Today, you did not decide to give your all to save the Baratié. You decided to _die_ for her. To sacrifice your future for another man's dream. Paying me back, or so you thought, for something you still think you can't – no, you don't want to accept for free.' Zeff was aware of Sanji's shocked looks. But the old cook wasn't stopped by it. He even approved of the youth's reaction. The essence of truth always went deeper than did mere words. To slice like a high-quality knife, that was the nature of it. At times it would carve out hearts. But this time, Red Leg Zeff wielded it to cut a cord. Even if it meant that he had to make more words in five minutes than he'd spoken to the lad in the past five years. 'Do you really hold your life in so little esteem, Sanji, that you would not want to live it, if it needed to be saved by a pirate?'

'Now you're being unfair.' Sanji said, his voice hoarse. 'I proved more than once that I sort of cling to life.'

'Then claim it, little eggplant, take it back.' Zeff crumbled as his crippled leg gave way under him. He'd been putting weight on it for too long. Cursing his weakness, he groped for a chair. 'I saved you from certain death once, but I never did it for a reward. I certainly never thought I'd get repaid in blood. You keep telling me you'll stay at the Baratié till I've cooked my last meal and dropped dead with the spoon in my hand. You seem to think me a devil that would own your very soul for as long as he lived. But my dreams are my own, and no man but me may choose to die for them. I refuse your sacrifice, and thus I leave you with the most difficult choice of all: Be a man or be a fool, Sanji, or both. But start being anything save a brat with a head full of romantic ideas.' Zeff glared at Sanji, who still sat like frozen, and _gosh, he felt tired_. He pinched the bridge of his nose with two fingers. _He'd never thought that raising kids to a state of healthy adult reasoning took it out of you so thoroughly._ 'Grow up, little eggplant. Do me this one last favor, and make up your mind like a man, Sanji, damn you.'

A few long seconds passed. Then, Sanji said, 'Alright.' He turned the knife and held it out to Zeff, handle first. 'I've decided. I've got a life, and I'm friggin' going to live it. But I gotta ask the old pirate one last favor in return...'

Zeff took the knife, weighing it carefully. 'Sounds like a deal,' he mumbled and shouted, 'Carne! Patty! Come in, you scum! I know you're out there, eavesdropping.'

The door opened, and the two cooks entered. They looked remarkably embarrassed.

'We couldn't hear anything, until you screamed for us,' Patty claimed, his voice shaking.

'That's right,' echoed Carne. 'We couldn't hear anything because of you shouting so loud...'

Sanji rolled his eyes, mouthing, _'Idiots'_.

'Patty, strap Sanji down,' ordered Zeff. 'Carne, put this blade into the fire. We're going to do a little surgery.'

'Don't have them strap me to the bed, Zeff,' Sanji said, keeping his voice fairly steady. 'I don't want to be tied up.'

Zeff gave him a stern look. 'Still looking for a way to enter purgatory and wash off you sins with pain and blood, aren't you?'

'I made up my mind,' Sanji said. 'I would appreciate if you respected my decision.'

The old cook cracked a smile.

'One of these days, you, too, will learn the difference between bravery and steadfastness,' he announced and, ignoring the young cook's suddenly worried looks, gestured. 'Carne. Hand me that piece of wood over there.'

* * *

_Going Merry (present day)_

Darkness aboard the Going Merry was almost complete, with the stars coming out overheard. The crew had disappeared below deck, with Luffy casting more than one longing glance in the direction of the cook. Usopp and Nico Robin talked to him quietly, and he sighed and followed them through the hatch.

Sanji had not noticed, and Chopper was too spellbound by the narrative to care.

'Did they do it?' he asked now, shivering sympathetically. 'Did they perform surgery without even tying your hands?'

'They argued about it for some time.' Sanji toyed with his lighter on the table. 'Carne and Patty pointed out that I was too strong for them to hold down. They quarreled over the prerogative to knock me out. Zeff would hear none of it. He got behind me and grabbed my wrists to prove his point. _Shit, his hands were strong_!' Sanji let the small flame spring up and watched it burn. 'He said something in the line of "Like in the olden days", but without glory or something. 't was just a statement. I'd been given more rum by Carne – a whole lot more, to be precise - and I was quite out of it. Standard onboard procedure, if you don't have a doc and his bag of narcotic drugs with you.' He gave Chopper a faint smile. 'But I _do_ remember the taste of the wooden wedge to protect my teeth. And the look on Zeff's face that told me Carne was about to make the incision.'

'And then?' asked Chopper, breathless with suspense.

Sanji opened his mouth and closed it again without saying what he had obviously in mind. He poured himself more wine and, picking up the glass, shook his head.

'You're a doctor, Chopper,' he said, 'Do you have any idea – do you _know_ how it feels to have fingers dig into your chest, select one of four broken ribs and jolt the shitty thing back in place?'

Chopper shook his head, holding his breath.

'Nor do I,' said Sanji, gazing off into space, and took a swig of wine. 'I passed out during the first stage of the digging part.' Another joyless smile crossed his face, 'So much for bravery and proving things to the old geezer.'

'I'm sure you don't have to feel – ' began Chopper, but Sanji simply talked over him, 'I suppose I strained and struggled and cussed and raved,' he said, 'I'm pretty sure I called all three of them names I didn't even know I knew. But the point is I remember none of it clearly. All I know is – ' He stopped, then shook his head dismissively.

'What do you know?' asked Chopper. But he already knew they had hit on a memory Sanji was not prepared to share.

Sanji lighted another cigarette, carefully shielding the lighter with his hand. 'When I awoke, Zeff sat beside my bed.'

'You say that like there was something extraordinary about it.'

'There was,' said Sanji, assuming a casual position with one arm over the chair's backrest, 'something surreal about it.'

* * *

_Baratié, (small hours, on the day after the battle)_

Sanji woke up with a throbbing head and a dull pain in his side. At first, he thought he had overdone partying with the kitchen staff. And Zeff was sitting at his side to tell him off right on awakening. He could see the older man's keen eyes pierce the darkness; they glinted in the faint light from the deck lanterns.

Then the memory came back to him, and turning his head, he mumbled, _'Oh, shit!'_

'Sanji? You awake?' said Zeff. 'That's good.'

'I suppose it is,' said Sanji, covering his face with his elbow. 'How am I doing? Finding myself in this bed and you beside me worries me, sort of. You've never been one to sit by a sickbed.'

'Must've dozed off,' said Zeff. 'No wonder, after the struggle you gave Patty and me. Next time your bones need a work-over I'll see to it personally that Carne and Patty shackle you to the bed frame.'

'But I thought - ' Sanji began and got a sharp look from the chef.

'Thought what, eggplant?'

'I don't know. Didn't you, at some point, take the knife away from Carne?' Sanji frowned, trying to catch elusive memories. 'I seem to remember you saying impatiently that he couldn't find the teeth in a shark's mouth. And that you'd take over from him.'

'The things you dream while under the influence,' said Zeff, smiling grimly. 'Carne is an experienced cook. He knows the anatomy of all kinds of fish and most quadrupeds, and quite frankly, a human body is not that much different. Why would I take over from him?' Zeff saw the continuing effort to remember on the young man's face, and said sternly, 'Listen, Sanji, so far nothing you said or did tonight really came as a surprise for me. I've known men weakened be fever and injury, and I learned not to hold them to anything they say. Only now you're starting to piss me off. Because I'm not a sentimentalist. Save for the weenie type, only fathers keep vigil over their sons. And I'm _not_ your old man.'

'But I - '

'You had a good taste of my octopus medicine,' said Zeff in a conciliatory tone of voice. 'The problem with the side effects is that they include hallucinations. You should be seeing things, little eggplant. In fact it would be rather surprising if you didn't. I won't blame you for it.'

Sanji tried to sit up and found that he could do it if he put up with a little pain in his right side. 'So you want me to believe that I merely imagined finding you with your eyes open, when I came round? Because I'm feverish and weakened?'

'Exactly.'

'And it wasn't you straightening my ribs, but that shitty loser Carne?'

'You got it.'

Sanji gave the old chef a level look, 'And you pull all of that off just to convince me you can't stand me?'

Zeff cracked a distorted, ugly smile, 'It's been ten years, and I still need to convince you of that?'

'I don't know,' said Sanji, thoughtfully. 'After all, you gave me the only evidence you ever found of the existence of the All Blue. Didn't you?'

There was a terrible risk to those words, especially when you were in no state to move swiftly and dodge. Sanji watched Zeff become stone-faced from astonishment.

_Surprised you after all, old geezer,_ he thought.

But he carefully avoided letting the satisfaction show in his face.

* * *

+++End of Chapter 2+++

A/N: Well, that's it for now. One more chapter coming up; your reviews are appreciated.


	3. True Colors

Hi everybody. Thanks for reading on and (if that can still be said halfway into January) a happy new year to all of you!

Thanks for your review, AllHeroesWearHats (the thing you mentioned was something I thought about, too: Will people like a story that doesn't feature monsters and lots of action?) - and _vielen lieben Dank _nonameyet for being so detailed (the funny thing is that Sanji's statement surprised me, too. When that happens - when characters "say" things I hadn't planned for their dialogue - then I usually know that the story is working. But it doesn't change the fact that I'm stuck with the problem of finding out what I've been thinking in that hidden corner of my mind. So it was in a certain way Sanji _and me_ sitting on that bed, going 'Zeff! Tell us, tell us, tell us what happened! Pleeease, I'm the author and I've got readers out there who want to _know_!" :) )

Well, here's the solution. Hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own "One Piece" and/or any of its characters, and I do not make money out of this.

* * *

+++Chapter 3: True Colors+++

Sanji had not been sure what reaction his remark would arouse. But seeing Zeff scowl he knew that he had hit home.

'Evidence?' the old cook grumbled. 'Of All Blue?! You still delirious? What the hell makes you think so?'

Sanji put on a nonchalant face, 'In case you didn't notice, old geezer: It's been a decade, and I grew up to be a cook, just like you. I know the things that live in the ocean. The edible things and the things that are best thrown back in when they happen to get caught in the fishing nets. And there is no such octopus, emerald and sapphire, as you described their species. Not in all the blues, East, West, North or South - '

'You're not a cook like me,' Zeff pointed out, apparently relaxing. 'And I would really like to see anything alive snuff out of existence just because a cocky brat like you claims he hasn't heard about them. Far up in the north, where the ocean is frozen for the better part of the year, that's where these octopuses live. Few things can, in those waters. But there are hot spots in the deep where the bottom of the sea brings forth boiling water and sulphur. This is where their species survive.'

'This,' said Sanji, 'and All Blue... the place where all things alive in the four blues come together.' He grinned broadly. 'And since you've never been to the far north... you must've found your specimen _elsewhere_.'

'On Grand Line, just as you expected,' said Zeff and narrowed his eyes. 'That was a clever piece of deduction. Maybe you're wasting your true talents, trying to be a cook? Maybe you'd be better off pursuing a career in private investigation?'

Sanji laughed, pleased with himself. 'I'd fail. Seems like I cannot even make an old geezer relate his story.' He assumed a more comfortable position, tucking his left foot under his right leg. 'Come on, Zeff. What happened?'

He looked so expectant, so much like the boy who had once announced with utter conviction that they would make the floating restaurant pay off _no matter what_ that he completely stole Zeff's thunder. The old cook was almost surprised to hear himself explain, 'I discovered the octopus for sale in a market on some backwater island. I told the vendor what I knew – that it was impossible for these creatures of hot sulphur wells and ice to cross the vast ocean. He insisted, he promised, he _swore_ by his father's grave that his seafood was caught on Grand Line.' Zeff smiled grimly. 'His supply was sufficiently fresh to back his story up. Still, I threatened to cut his throat if he lied to me. He told me that these octopuses could only be caught in this region and _only_ when there had been a storm on high sea. But even then they were very rare. They'd probably have slipped the attention of the fishermen, if it hadn't been for their colors and the discovery of their medical uses. - That was when I knew there had to be a population of North Blue creatures nearby that could not possibly exist - except in a place that was too good to be true...'

'Back on that damned rock,' said Sanji, 'You said you had almost found All Blue.'

Zeff nodded, 'I had found evidence. Finding the real thing seemed only the next step.' He looked at his wooden leg. '_A step I never took, but anyway..._'

Sanji's head spun so badly he feared he might black out again. 'But that's not all. _It can't be._ You haven't been to Grand Line in years. Yet, the stuff in that vial wasn't concocted nine years ago.'

'I'm a cook,' said Zeff, proudly. 'It would be a poor thing if I couldn't preserve food.'

'But - seafood?'

Zeff seemed darkly amused. 'Come on, Sanji. Look me in the eye, and tell me again that you're my equal. _A cook like me._'

Sanji's shoulders slumped. 'Nine years...' he mumbled, defeated. 'Seafood...'

'If those octopuses were not so hard to come by, don't you think I'd see to it that the vial containing such a powerful drug were full, always full?' Zeff was silent for a moment, then continued in a harsh whisper, 'How I fought not to use it up when I sat on that rock, just having lost my leg...' He clenched his fist. 'But I forced myself. I took only three swigs, one on every second day during the first week of madness. It was just enough to keep myself from terminally losing my mind.' He blinked himself back to the present day, and turned to Sanji. 'Obviously you never wondered how I survived a wound that should've caused severe blood loss and fever worse than the one you just went through ... you never worried...'

'I should have,' whispered Sanji. 'I didn't.'

'So full of yourself and your misery, all the time,' said Zeff. 'But all things considered, can you give me one good reason why you should expect me to worry when this time _you're_ the one bleeding himself to death?'

'What do you mean, bleeding to – _whaargh!_' Sanji discovered the brightly red stain spreading quickly on his right side.

'I would go and get more bandages.' Zeff smiled conveniently and leaned back, arms folded behind his head. 'But I've been kind of slow on foot lately.'

* * *

_Going Merry (present day)_

'Wait,' said Chopper. 'He said those octopuses were hard to come by?'

'Yup,' said Sanji. As he drew on his smoke a tiny red glowing dot appeared in the surrounding dark.

'And that he had made his elixir last for almost a decade, and now it was almost used up?'

'Yup.'

'And still he gave it to you when you needed it?'

'Yup.'

'And you,' Chopper's eyes widened, 'you gave the rest of it to Zoro.'

'Yup.'

'The _entire_ rest? All of it? There is no more to be had?'

Sanji exhaled slowly and with relish. 'No. No more. – Are you going to hear me out? Story's almost finished, actually...'

Chopper could only nod his head, stunned.

'Well,' said Sanji, 'as I said, the old geezer in his own, inimitable way had pointed out the fact that I was bleeding profusely again. So I staggered out of bed to find someone who could help staunch the flow. I passed the day cooking, sleeping, and generally trying not to show how groggy I still felt. In the afternoon, I went to Luffy's room - and the rest, I guess, is Straw Hat history.'

'Luffy once mentioned you were not easily convinced.'

'I certainly didn't go to him to sign up. I went there to stand at the rail and think about a few things without looking redundant. I mean, of course you can think about a lot of things while cooking... but chopping vegetables or stirring a large pot of stew simply and blooming hurts when you've been neatly filleted the other night.'

'Had your wound re-opened?' asked Chopper. Professional interest in medical detail, he realized, might help him overcome the dizzying effect of hearing Sanji say that he had given the last of his elixir, the last of Zeff's legacy, and the only hint at the possible existence of legendary All Blue to his nakama.

Just like that.

Just because Zoro needed it.

'Patty had delivered lousy work.' Sanji stubbed out his cigarette. 'The trouble was only with the part of the cut that he had stitched up.'

Chopper wrinkled his furry brow, 'Patty stitched you up? But I thought you said that Zeff had taken over from Carne?'

'How'm I supposed to know these things?' said Sanji off-handedly. 'As I said, I wasn't there. Well, not really. Not in a receptive way, I mean.'

'But Zeff said – '

'Zeff didn't say anything. He merely suggested that I rather believe in ravings – and dreams.' Sanji leaned back to look at the sky, with his hands stuffed in his pockets. 'Zeff wanted me to go with Luffy. To follow my dream. That was the decision the old geezer thought I needed to make up my mind about. He was worried I'd let the chance pass by, just as he was worried that I might die that night. But he couldn't find it within his character to be straightforward about it.' A roguish smile crossed Sanji's face. 'Maybe he was afraid that I might decide to stay and feel responsible for him for the rest of his life, if I realized how much I meant to him.'

'There are people who cannot show how much they care for another person,' said Chopper. 'I think Doctor Kureha is one of those, too...'

'Maybe she is,' Sanji agreed out of respect for Chopper's feelings – he himself remembered the eccentric doc as a knife-throwing, bickering and back-breaking old hag that he needed to run from as far and swiftly as possible. 'It took me some time. And distance, as well. But I understand now. I don't need to prove anything, anymore. And I no longer bear the old geezer a grudge for not patting my shoulder now and then. Even though I could've done with it.'

There was a short silence.

'What will you do, now that you know?' asked Chopper.

'First thing that comes to mind: I'm going to shed tears again.' Sanji smiled slyly. 'I mean I know I will. Not today, of course. But I no longer cross out the possibility with as much resolve as I did on that night. Being a block of ice doesn't prove anything. To no-one.'

'But what - ' Chopper started. He watched Sanji take their glasses and grab the wine bottle by the neck and understood that the cook meant to leave. Chopper followed him to the galley and entered after him. It was really dark inside, and while Chopper found his way among different shades of gray with reindeer vision he knew that the human in his company had to rely on his memory of the arrangement of the furniture. But it was Sanji's galley, and he could put the used glasses in the sink and stow away the bottle and find himself a chair blindfolded if need be. He wouldn't have paid attention to eyesight anyway, still being absorbed in the things he had told Chopper.

Thinking of the one memory he had not shared...

* * *

_The Baratié, (around midnight)_

Surgery was finished, and Sanji lay on fresh sheets, his wounds cleanly dressed. But he wasn't aware of it yet. The young cook had passed out from pain and weakness, just as Zeff had expected him to. Carne bundled the soiled sheets, muttering something about their running rapidly out of bandages, if Sanji and his new friend kept going like this. Zeff could have told him that it was not only the blood loss that he was worried about. The fever he had seen coming had taken hold, and Sanji was struggling again. Tossing his head restlessly on the cushion, he cursed the old geezer for sacrificing his leg to save him and reasoned with him that a ship was sure to show up – _today, tomorrow, next week or next year._

Zeff looked on, stone-faced, saying nothing.

At one point, Sanji called out for people that didn't live on the Baratié. The names were those of the cooks on the ship that had sunk in the storm that marooned Sanji and Zeff on the cursed rock.

'This is not good,' mumbled Carne, worried. 'It's always a bad sign when they call for people that are no longer there...'

Slowly, Zeff turned to him. The look on his face made the other cook's blood run cold.

'Owner Zeff!' Patty presented a pitcher full of water.

Zeff inhaled deeply, 'Now that,' he said, 'is one useful idea at last and the reason why I kept you all these years.'

It took both men, Patty and Carne, to try and make the water go into Sanji. It wasn't that the young cook didn't want the refreshment once he realized that it was offered to him. The problem was that in fact he wanted it more than anything else, _and full control of the pitcher_. Patty and Carne were muppets in his way, and they ended up hitting the far wall while Sanji sat on the bed, helping himself. As the two cooks left ('so, this is what we get for trying to help'), Zeff watched the lad drink greedily.

'Go slowly, little eggplant,' he warned when Sanji choked, spilling water on the sheet. The young cook wiped his mouth with his sleeve. He was slightly out of breath as he looked down at the pitcher in his hands. His voice was still hoarse and not entirely his own, 'Zeff? Have you ever felt that your blood had clotted into a pulp and you needed to drink your own weight in water to liquefy it again?'

Zeff smiled a rare smile, 'Maybe I have. Once or twice, when there was hardly any blood left in my body.'

'I have hardly any blood left, and what's left of the shitty stuff is _salty_,' complained Sanji. 'God, I'm parched.' He raised the pitcher again with both hands.

Zeff's left hand, the one he didn't need to hold his crutches, twitched.

_Pat him on the back._ The thought crossed the old pirate's mind and turned into a wish. _Come on, Red Leg Zeff. There's always a first time, and it would mean so much to you both. Especially now, when he's gone through this ordeal for you... and tomorrow he'll leave for good... you know he will.._

He leaned slightly forward. His hand moved, reaching out for the lad.

_He's got a high fever. He's got more drugs in his veins than blood. Hell, with any luck he'll not even remember that you went soft at last. A sentimentalist, Red Leg Zeff. Just a gooey old geezer..._

And then, suddenly, like a cloud moving in front of the sun, Zeff's face closed. His fingers flexed, making a fist as he pulled back his hand. He averted his head and even closed his eyes, trying to lock out the world.

He heard Sanji's voice, 'I've been wondering...'

He looked up to find the youth look back at him with a serene face.

'The leopard, Zeff – '

'Shut up, little eggplant,' growled Zeff. 'Save your strength.'

'Just like an octopus, it's got spots, Zeff. Now, they say - ' Sanji climbed forward on the bed. Zeff thought he wanted to set down the pitcher, but the brat actually planned to scramble to his feet.

'They say, a leopard can't change his spots, Zeff. Even if his life depended on it, he couldn't be expected to go out of his way. But an octopus will... it's his way of survival, they say. And a way of communicating.' Sanji might have been talking in his fever. But there was a spark in his blue eyes that suggested the young cook was not merely raving. 'Listening to you, Zeff, living with you, watching you, I found myself wondering: Why is it that the leopard cannot change his spots? Is it bravery? Steadfastness? Or is he simply afraid to find his true colors shining through, if he allowed his patterns to change?' Sanji stood now, with difficulty. He leaned on Zeff's shoulder to steady himself. He smelled of illness, cold smoke and rum. 'Zeff, help me figure it out, it's been torturing me – is it possible, is the leopard - despite being proud, and strong, and feared by so many – _is he just a coward, afraid to look at his own colors?_'

'Don't you dare touch my lapels.'

Knocking Sanji out was easy in his current state, and it was necessary, and Zeff hit him hard. He was slightly confused and irritated when the brat collapsed laughing as if he had received the answer he had been looking for and could finally stop racking his brains. Then, his body suddenly went rigid and relaxed a moment later with a long release of breath, as if the impact of the blow was just a little late registering. His wound had started to seep blood again.

Zeff stood, looking down on the crumpled youth.

He had never touched Sanji before, except for chastising him.

This old leopard could change his spots now and lift the lad back on to the bed. Or he could go and get someone to do the job. Which was probably the better idea for a peg leg like him.

Even as Zeff moved to the door to admit Patty who was waiting outside he knew that he was making excuses. The simple fact was that Sanji must never learn how deeply the truth of his words had cut.

But somehow, Sanji knew.

* * *

_Going Merry (present day)_

Zoro dozed under his blanket and woke when Sanji moved a chair to sit by his side.

'Huh?' he said drowsily, and squinted, 'Bit dark in here...'

'Best go back to sleep then,' whispered Sanji.

'Cook? That you?' Zoro started up.

'It's okay, Zoro, go back to sleep.' Chopper straightened the blanket, incidentially pulling it tight around Zoro's arms, and checked the swordsman's temperature. 'This elixir is really worth it. You're still feverish, but not dangerously so.'

'Chopper,' said Zoro, gladly turning his attention to the reindeer, 'I had a wonderful dream. I was the greatest sword fighter in all four blues...' He frowned. 'And then I thought I saw the idiot cook sitting down next to me like he intended to stay and keep watch over me...'

Chopper cast a look at Sanji whose black suit merged with the shadows. No help coming from this direction. The reindeer moistened his muzzle, then said in a conciliatory tone of voice, 'You had a good taste of octopus medicine, Zoro..._' Now, how had the old pirate put it? Ah, yes - _'The problem with the side effects is that they include hallucinations. You should be seeing things. In fact, it would be surprising if you didn't. No one will blame you for that.'

'Not even you, idiot cook?' said Zoro, talking to the shadows.

'Nope,' said Sanji, brightly and at normal volume.

'Okay then, stay.'

'Like I care about your permission,' grumbled Sanji, deliberately lighting a cigarette.

Zoro glowered, 'Put that out!'

'Try and make me.'

'Idiot! I mean it!'

'So do I.' Sanji took the cigarette between his fingers and flashed the swordsman a grin.

'You just can't let it rest,' growled Zoro. 'A leopard never changes its spots, does it?'

'You'd have to ask that of a leopard,' said Sanji, leaning forward. 'Not of me.'

Zoro who had the impression that the idiot cook intended to pat him on the shoulder shrank back. But Sanji reached for something beside Zoro's sickbed. Steel clinked, light flashed on metal: Zoro's katana were back in his arms, all three of them. Chopper started to say something and was hushed when he saw Sanji put a finger to his smiling lips.

'Why, thanks...' Zoro cradled the blades to his chest, mumbling to no-one in particular, 'Gosh, I needed that, you don't know how much!'

'Right you are,' grumbled Sanji. 'Why would I bother to know what _you_ need?'

'I already feel tons better.' Zoro was dropping off to sleep, happily hugging his blades.

'Good. Then there's a chance that I'll be able to prepare breakfast in my galley. Alone.' Sanji stretched. 'Chopper? It's getting late. Time you turned in as well.'

'I'd like to. But Zoro may need assistance if he wakes up during the night.'

'No problem. I'll be here.'

'Like that? On a chair?' Lounging on his seat, Chopper reflected, Sanji's spine was about as far from a human's natural 'S'-shape than was possible for it to be. But judging by the way the cook snuggled up he seemed not uncomfortable, and now he even said, 'On a chair, on the floor - I can sleep in any kitchen or galley, and in fact I did. Some dishes take an awfully long time to cook. Actually, I'm thinking about preparing one of those for tomorrow's lunch.'

'Zeff said that only sentimentalists or fathers keep vigil over other people,' said Chopper, thoughtfully. 'He forgot to mention doctors. But if you sit with Zoro now, Sanji – '

'I'm not going to sit with him. I'm telling you. I'm going to cook – '

' - what do you think he'd say it makes _you_?'

There was a short silence, but not the kind of silence suggesting that Sanji was desperately trying to think of an answer. It rather felt to Chopper like a counter question, _You really need to ask?_

'Straw Hat,' said Sanji, his smile glinting in the dusk before Chopper's eyes. 'I guess it makes me a Straw Hat Pirate.'

+++The End+++

* * *

A/N: So there it is, another story finished. Thanks a lot for reading. I hope you enjoyed. Zeff is certainly not the kind of guy I would like to hang out with. But there is something compelling about his character, and it was sure entertaining to explore. :) Your reviews, as always, are welcome.


End file.
